


Take Six

by LittleMousling



Series: Commune Sex Tapes [1]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Complete silliness, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Friends Critiquing Friends' Porn, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Multi, The importance of lighting and camera angles, Voyeurism, amateur porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/pseuds/LittleMousling
Summary: The commune makes a sex tape.





	Take Six

**Author's Note:**

> This is very silly but it made me laugh. Hopefully it makes you laugh, too!
> 
> With great thanks to my commune for cheerleading!

Lovett’s helping direct a live sex show put on by two of his best friends. He’s not sure how his life got here, but he knows it all started with Jon and Emily.

***

The background, as Lovett understands it, is this: Jon and Emily are really fucking hot. Objectively, subjectively—he gets it. He’s not blind. And they aren’t, either, so they’ve had plenty of occasion to admire themselves. They’ve got two separate full-length mirrors pointed at their bed. They’re well aware of their own charms.

All of that was just Lovett’s assumptions, though—he’s seen the mirrors, he’s seen Emily’s taste in bikinis, he’s drawn conclusions—until the day he looked up from a taco to see a text notification from Emily. He has his phone set so photos don’t show up on his lock screen, but he swiped through and—holy shit. He was glad to be at home, alone, instead of out in public where _he might have been, Emily_. 

He never ended up making that point to her. He was too busy looking at the picture, which was definitely of his friends having sex. It was unexpectedly artful; the lighting was soft on Emily’s pale skin but still throwing interesting shadows, and the way Jon was angled made him look even more handsome than usual. It could almost pass for a PG-13 movie shot—their naked bodies, the curves of Emily poised above Jon—except for the lens flare of light between their thighs that highlighted the shape of what had to be Jon’s cock, halfway into her. 

He wrote back, _I would think you meant to send this to someone else except I can’t imagine who that someone else would be._

Emily replied instantly: _Is it good? We thought the light was really good._

 _Are you asking me for art direction tips?_ he typed, not sure how to process this. He could be honest, at least. _The light’s amazing. The lens flare thing is, uh, compelling._

 _Thank you!_ He could almost hear Emily’s grin in the words. _We’ve been practicing. This is the first shot I think really stands out. We’re way better at video._

Right there, Lovett thinks, later: right there is where he could have chosen to shut it down. He could have said _Yup, good shot. Anyway, did you see that thing Hannity tweeted?_ and Emily would have dropped it.

He didn’t say that. He said, _If you want an audience for your hetero sex tape, I think you’ll have a better shot with Hanna and Tommy._ He’d been joking. Emily had not, apparently, realized that.

***

He wasn’t a witness to the next run of events, but he’s thought about how they might have gone. It was briefly his favorite amusing daydream: Emily sitting around the house, clipping up her favorite parts of their amateur porn to send to Tommy and Hanna. He imagined her telling Jon: “They can give us pointers. I still don’t think we have the angles right.” 

Lovett pictured Jon’s expression, some combination of embarrassed and indulgent. He thought this was a bad idea; he also wasn’t going to get in the way of Emily wanting to execute a plan. Emily, on a mission, was not going to let anything stop her. 

Besides which, Lovett knows now that Jon’s got an exhibitionist streak a mile wide, even if he doesn’t like to admit it. 

Lovett next heard about the project—it’s a project, now—when it reached Ronan, a couple of weeks later. Actually, he thinks it reached Ronan before that, but he didn’t arrive in New York and roll his suitcase inside the apartment to find Ronan watching straight porn until two weeks later. 

Ronan turned away from the computer as soon as he heard Lovett, which was gratifying, but didn’t distract Lovett from what was playing out behind his head. “Uh,” Lovett said, falling automatically into their kiss-and-hug greeting sequence, “Is there something you need to tell me?” He squinted at the screen, and only then did he realize who that tiny blonde was. “Is that _Emily_?”

“Yes!” Ronan said. “She asked me for some editing help.”

“With … a sex tape,” Lovett said, slowly. 

“Mm-hm,” Ronan agreed, turning back towards his desk. “Give me your opinion on this fade. I think it’s too fast.” He played the clip. Lovett had to make him play it three times; the first two, he was too distracted by the content to judge the editing. 

Lovett shook his head. “Uh, yeah. Too fast. Listen, this is a little weird—“

“Yeah,” Ronan agreed, and Lovett was relieved until Ronan continued, “I think we’re going to have to ask them for some reshoots. The lighting’s off, and there’s something else I haven’t been able to put my finger on. Camera angles are part of it, though.” 

“Uh,” Lovett started, but then Ronan was showing him another section of the video, jumping right to a marked time.

“See, right here—this part’s perfect. The rest needs to live up to this.” 

Lovett blinked at the screen. “Oh, wow, he’s really, uh—going for it.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said. “See, right here is where the soundtrack needs to swell.”

“Definitely,” Lovett agreed, and pulled up a chair.

He finds out later that Tommy and Hanna had been of limited editorial assistance to Emily and Jon. He finds out, a little later than that, that they’d been of limited use because they pretty much just jerked off to the videos and asked for more. In retrospect, they’d taken the more sensible path. 

While Lovett was in New York that weekend, Ronan started suggesting reshoots to Jon and Emily. Lovett watched him craft the texts: _Can you re-film the doggy-style sequence in morning light?_ and _I’m concerned about the camera angle when you’re sitting on his face. It’s not conveying the emotion right._

By Sunday brunch—when two new clips had rolled in, and they were watching them over bagels and coffee—Ronan concluded that he needed to take some camera equipment to LA and direct-produce. He called Emily from the table, licking lox from his fingers. “I’m thinking Lovett can be my grip,” he said. “Although the equipment’s fairly heavy; Tommy would be better.”

“Sure,” Lovett heard Emily say, voice tinny and muffled. “That makes sense.” 

Even more muffled was Jon’s voice in the background saying, “Wait, what did you just agree to?”

“Hanna should probably come, too, then,” Emily said. “I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable about the situation.”

“That makes sense,” Ronan agreed. “Maybe I’d better bring Lovett along too. You know how he gets about being left out of things."

Lovett protested, over a mouthful of bagel. "Hey!"

Ronan just looked at him, and he shrugged. Okay, fine. He hates being left out of things. 

“So we’ll plan for full reshoots,” Ronan said, back to Emily now. “How's the weekend of the, let's see, the 23rd?"

Ronan got off the line with Emily and started planning it out loud, fiddling with his World’s Best Reporter mug. "If Hanna's going to be there anyway, I wonder if I could put her on makeup touch-ups."

“You know,” Lovett said, despite himself, “if you decide to do one with plot, I could help with the scripting.”

Ronan smiled at him, big and earnest. “That would be great, babe. Thanks.” 

Lovett shrugged. “I’m not gonna say ‘anytime,’” he said. “I want to be clear that this is very strictly limited to this weird scenario.” 

Ronan pushed his mug towards the center of the counter and came to stand by Lovett. “You’re very generous,” he said, and the tone was seductive enough that Lovett sensibly swallowed what he was chewing and moved his own dishes away from the edge of the counter. “Very giving.”

“Uh-huh,” Lovett agreed. “Absolutely.” 

“Someone should really reward you for that,” Ronan told him, smirking. 

“I mean,” Lovett said. “Don’t let me get in the way of your charitable intentions. I do accept rewards in a variety of—“ He never got to finish the sentence, but he was pretty pleased with his Sunday afternoon.

***

He heard about the rest from Emily, directly, over lunch. 

“So I told Jon, if you're nervous about it, we'll just do a mini test run," Emily said. “You know, Ronan can watch over the webcam and everyone else can just pretend we're filming. I told him Hanna's on touch-ups. I’m going to put some makeup on him, too, I think. Just a little foundation, nothing too wild."

Lovett could picture Jon’s response, he thought, but he let Emily tell it.

“So Jon’s looking at me like he has no idea how any of this happened, but he’s just gonna let that go—you know how he looks like that?” Lovett did. “And all he says is ‘where would they sit?’ which is so cute.”

“ _So_ cute,” Lovett agreed, on gay-best-friend autopilot.

“So I told him Tommy was coming over to help me move the loveseat into the bedroom—wait, I said it, like, ‘Tommy’s going to help move the loveseat in here, he’s coming over tonight.’ And maybe Jon missed the first part or something, but he goes—” Her face went confused-nervous-excited, imitating Jon “’To … watch us fuck?’” 

She laughed, high-pitched and easy. “I was like, babe, to move the loveseat! Are you paying attention? I’m trying to plan this out here, you could help. I’ll get you a pen and a pad of paper. Making lists always helps me focus. Anyway, after that he was pretty helpful. He’s got some good ideas about positioning.”

Lovett thought that story might explain a text he’d gotten from Jon that just read, _Emily is a force of nature_. 

Lovett had written back, _No kidding. Just wait until you guys have kids._

“Anyway,” Emily finished. “That’s how we decided to do the test run. You’re coming, right? Ronan says you gave him really good editing notes.”

Lovett picked up his beer. “Apparently, I’m integral to this whole project,” he said, and Emily smiled.

***

All of which led to this, here, today. To Lovett watching two of his best friends fuck, with his boyfriend on Skype directing, and Tommy and Hanna chiming in. 

It turns out to be a good thing that they’re doing this test-run, because everybody seems to think they're the damned director once it gets started. Hanna pipes up early: "I think you should move your arm, Emily. You're blocking Jon's face."

"No, she's fine," Ronan says over the webcam. "Don't forget you're at a different angle than the camera."

"Hmm," Hanna says, and gets up to lean closer to the laptop. "Oh, that _is_ a nice angle."

"Is it?" Tommy gets up and follows her. Lovett, despite himself, refuses to feel left out and steps over, too.

Jon, when Lovett glances at him, looks like he’s torn between whether this is weird or hot, but hot is definitely winning. 

They've barely even gotten started; Jon’s been playing with Emily's tits, mostly, and Emily’s been turning out some very performative noises in response. Lovett’s not sure if that’s for the benefit of the audience or to keep Jon on track, but if it’s the latter, it’s working. 

Ronan tells Jon and Emily, "Don't let them distract you. We're at three minutes fifty, time to move to sequence one.”

Tommy says, "Hey, don't rush the man."

Ronan coughs, pointedly. "Tommy, are you the director or am I?"

Lovett can’t help but interject, "Oh, I know that tone."

Hanna settles back on the couch. "Tommy has a point, though. This part's great. Emily looks like she'd like more of it."

There’s an agonized noise from the bed, and Jon says, strangled, “Guys. I’m trying to focus, here.”

Emily shuts them all up, saying, "I like sequence one. Sequence one is a winner. Ronan, did you give everyone a copy of the scene run-through?"

"No—hang on, I'll email. Hold tight."

Three phones beep. They all settle back onto the loveseat—Hanna in Tommy's lap—reading through the bullet-pointed plan. "In the real one, we'll have a variety of camera angles," Ronan tells them. "I can't see them, are they reading it?"

Emily nods. "Lovett looks confused.”

"I'm not _confused_ ,” he says, flustered. "I just didn't realize that was a ... thing. For straight people."

"Which—oh, the last sequence?" Ronan says. "It's a thing."

"Unexplored depths of knowledge from my bi boyfriend," Lovett says. "Fine, fine. Carry on." 

"Sequence one," Ronan says again, and this time Hanna says, "Yeah, definitely." Tommy laughs. Jon starts crawling down Emily's body, kissing her skin, hands running up and down her thighs and over her hips.

"Good," Ronan says. "Don't let your hands block your face, though. Here's—yeah, right here is where we'd change camera angles, so pause—good—okay, you can keep going. You know, I think we may need to re-light this, too. I'm getting all shadow on Emily's thighs now."

"I can move the lamp," Hanna says, and goes to shift it. "Is that better?"

"It's too stark," Ronan says. "But we'll do a lighting test when I get there. This is fine for now."

"If you're all done," Jon says, clearing his throat. "I'm sort of trying to accomplish some things here?"

"So are we, Jon," Tommy says, but there's a laugh in his voice. "Anyway, Emily seems into it."

"Emily's into the planning," Emily says. "Emily's also into Jon eating her out, so I think I'm team Jon on this one."

"Fine, fine." Hanna sits back down. "Ronan, what's the plan for the camera angle here?" Jon stops, turns to look at her. "Don't let me interrupt! Just planning. Should I just text him? I'll text him."

Lovett gets a copy of a group text sent to him, Hanna, and Tommy. _In a perfect world, we'd do two simultaneous angles here. Fore and aft, basically. But they only have the one good camera._

Tommy writes back, _Hanna and I have a pretty good camera._

Ronan says, out loud, "What are the specs?—Sorry, Jon. Keep going."

Emily plants her hand on Jon's head, keeping him from registering any disapproval of the ongoing discussions.

Unexpectedly, Hanna says, "Shush, I'm enjoying this." They shush.

Hanna's leaning far enough forward that she might fall off of Tommy's lap, if Lovett's any judge. She's very nearly got her elbows on the bed.

Lovett looks, but he's pretty sure he's not appreciating what she's appreciating. Although Jon does look sort of excitingly _big_ like this, his shoulders bunched and his hand enormous on Emily's thigh. And Lovett mostly can't see the, uh, working area from here, so it's just the sounds and Jon's broad back and Ronan saying, "Hmm, yeah," in a familiar and somewhat pavlovian tone.

Okay. Maybe he's getting into it, too.

Tommy says, "The end of this bullet point says 'go for two.' What does 'go for two'—"

Emily comes. None of them are remotely in the dark about what's happening, as she is very loud and very, very excited.

"That's one," Ronan says, cheerfully. Tommy does not repeat his question.

"Is that fast?" Lovett mutters to Tommy, trying to keep quiet and failing. "That seems fast."

Tommy shrugs. "Didn't you watch the videos? That seems about right. Hanna, doesn't that seem about right?"

"Little fast," Hanna says. "But not, like, way out of her norm."

Lovett raises an eyebrow at Tommy. "How many videos exactly—"

Tommy says, "I dunno, twenty-three? Twenty-four?"

"Twenty-six," Hanna corrects him. She's still glued to the action on the bed.

"I've got about forty-three, but a number of them were scene reshoots for the camera angle discussions Emily and I have been having," Ronan says.

"Um, can we get a copy of those?" Hanna asks. "For, uh. So we can help you with the planning." 

"Sure," Ronan says, and Lovett sees Jon's head come up again but Emily pushes it back down. "I'll bring the USB when I get to LA." He pauses again, and then says, "Jon, I'm not seeing the vigor we're going to need for this sequence."

This time, Emily's fist threads into Jon's hair before he even starts to move, keeping him where he is. Lovett can see the muscles jumping in her thigh, thinks they might be about to hit two. He's not sure when his life came to involve him trying to predict his best girlfriend's orgasms.

"That's better," Ronan says. "Emily, I like the hair-pulling. Let's keep that for the real shoot. It's very dynamic. Very chiaroscuro."

Lovett announces, "Ronan swallowed three books on filmography last weekend."

Tommy says, "Bet that's not all he swallowed." Hanna high-fives him.

"Did you guys smoke up before—never mind. Of course you did. And none to share, I notice," Lovett says.

"You don't like my pot. We have had this discussion sixteen times. You always complain about it and tell me I should switch strains."

"I still like to be _asked_ ,” Lovett says, grumpily.

Emily comes, even louder, possibly trying to make a point about where the attention is _supposed_ to be focused right now.

"Okay," Ronan says. "Jon, sequence two.”

Lovett glances back at the beat sheet. "What does RVCG stand for?"

"Your second-favorite position," Ronan says. "Hmm, Jon, try to keep Emily towards the camera when you're moving into the new—better. No, hang on, angle about, ah, let's say thirty degrees. Other way. Good. Little more."

"Oh, reverse cowgirl," Hanna says. "Wait, Lovett likes reverse cowgirl?"

"Isn't it reverse cowboy at that point?" Tommy asks. Hanna elbows him. "What? I'm being inclusive!"

"What's Lovett's favorite?" Hanna asks.

Lovett says, before Ronan can answer, "The lighting's all wrong now."

"Hmm," Hanna says. "Hang on, I'll move the lamp back."

Tommy leans over once she gets up, whispers, "Reverse cowperson is hot. I'm with you."

Lovett says, not as quietly, "Tommy, I think you and I may be assessing it from different perspectives."

"From—right. _Right_. Okay. Yeah."

Hanna sits back down on Tommy's lap, and Tommy hisses, pushing her forward on his thighs. She twists around to look at him. "Hmm," she says. "You may as well just pull it out, babe, if it's getting squashed."

"What's happening?" Ronan asks.

"Tommy's being a martyr to his erection," Lovett interprets. "Also, Emily's getting mad we're not paying enough attention," because that part's true, too. Emily's putting on a great show and they're all neglecting her.

There's a round of “Sorry, Emily!”

Emily does look good. It's not Lovett's area of expertise or anything, but he can appreciate a good female figure. She looks like a statue. A very shiny statue bouncing on a dick.

"The shiny thing is nice," Lovett says, wanting to contribute something. "We should oil them up for the video."

"Not on those sheets," Tommy objects. "Let's not harm any nice linen sheets in the making of this film, guys."

"I can pack the rubber sheet," Ronan puts in.

"You have a—you know what, I've learned my lesson about asking questions," Tommy says.

"It's not for anything weird," Lovett says, which is absolutely a lie, but Ronan's too busy calling slight body-position changes to correct him.

Tommy squirms again, makes a face. Lovett's having trouble dividing his attention between the sex show and Tommy's lap at a ratio that's remotely appropriate. "Just get it out already," he says, finally. "No one cares. We're literally watching live porn, you're not breaking any taboos by jerking off."

"Man has a point," Jon mumbles.

"I mean, if you feel inspired," Emily agrees, and tosses her hair.

"It's pretty inspiring," Hanna says. "Also, we have got to talk about your thigh routine. That can't just be squats."

"I'll send you the workout I use," Emily says, panting. "I think the squeeze and lift is key. I do it with ankle weights now."

"I don't even know what that is, but I'm so excited to do it," Hanna says. Behind her, Tommy finally takes his dick out. And out, and out, and out. Lovett looks at Hanna, and looks back at Tommy's dick. Back at Hanna.

"That can't _possibly_ fit," he blurts out, interrupting further workout commentary from Emily.

"What's happening now?" Ronan asks again, sounding a little irritated now that he's missing out on so much.

Lovett grabs for the computer, over Emily's "hey!" and points the camera at Tommy's dick, and then at Hanna, perched on his knee.

"Oh, wow," Ronan says. "That can't _possibly_ fit."

"You'd be surprised," Hanna says, sounding exceptionally smug. As well she might, Lovett supposes.

"Okay," Emily says, climbing off. "Scene break to discuss Tommy's ridiculous penis. Jon, did you know about this?"

Jon shrugs. "I mean, yeah. I don't know how Lovett didn't."

"Because I don't go around trying to catch glimpses of my friends' genitals?" Lovett's face feels hot. "Ronan, defend me."

"Honestly ... I think you should have been paying more attention. How long did you live with him?"

"By that standard, _Cody_ should know about—"

Tommy makes a coughing noise.

"Cody—okay, well, I bet _Michael_ doesn't know—"

Tommy coughs again.

"Tommy, I swear, if you tell me the President knows about your porn dick, I'm going to throttle you."

"Oh, hey," Ronan says. "That really _is_ a porn dick. We should talk about that. Emily, what's your openness to guest stars?"

"I think the problem here would be physical openness," Emily says. "I don't know what Hanna's doing to handle that but I prefer my cervix where it is."

"Fair," Tommy says. His smugness radiates through the whole room. Lovett hates him and his stupid, giant, gorgeous dick.

"Okay, we'll table that one for now," Ronan says. "Although if we're doing casting in general—never mind, never mind. Let's go onto sequence three. Lovett, can you move the camera?"

Lovett wants to know what Ronan's casting ideas were. Lovett wonders if he can put some casting ideas of his own on the table. Say, a same-sex sequel called "Reverse Cowperson."

"Lovett?" Ronan prompts. Emily and Jon are already climbing back onto the bed.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'm here. Where are we moving it?" He's too cognizant, now, of his own dick in his sweats. He really should have thought about this problem before getting dressed to come over here.

"Uh—let's say eighteen inches to the left," Ronan says. "I think that's about right, it's hard to estimate from here."

Eighteen inches to the left is in Hanna's lap, or Tommy's. Lovett hands the laptop over. "No, no, too far," Ronan says. "I'm trying to center the end of the bed. Can you—"

"Uh, yeah," Lovett says, taking the laptop back. He holds it, trying to figure out how to put it in the space between him and Tommy, but at the right height.

Hanna slides down off Tommy's lap, until she's pressed against them both. "I'll hold it," she says, and moves it onto her thighs.

"Too low," Ronan reports. "Jon, don't get recreational, we aren't set up yet." Lovett looks up to see Jon kissing Emily against the side of the bed, one hand between her legs.

"Pardon me for feeling up my wife," Jon says, and Emily giggles, throwing her head back so Jon can kiss her neck.

"Still too low," Ronan reminds them. "Guys?"

"Here, I'll—" Tommy lifts Hanna up, laptop and all, and shifts them both over towards Lovett so Hanna's on his lap again, tight up against his cock. Lovett swallows and drags his eyes away. The picture in front of him isn't much safer: Jon rubbing up against Emily's hip, Emily's hand squeezing his ass. Jon's got a better ass than Lovett gives him credit for: tiny, but in a sort of square, solid way. Lovett bets it feels great under her fingers.

Hanna leans over, giggling. "You can whip it out, too, you know," she says.

"I'm ... good," Lovett says.

Ronan audibly hums, then says, "Lovett. You're distracting my touch-up artist. Just get your dick out."

"Tommy's not even touching his," Lovett says, which doesn't sound like as good an argument outside his head as it did inside. "I mean—no one else is jerking off."

"Oh, not an issue," Tommy says, grinning, and pushes Hanna forward enough to get a hand around his cock.

"Hang on, I take it back, no one jerks off. You're shaking the camera. Jon—get her up on the bed, please. The peanut gallery can contain themselves for a couple more sequences."

Lovett pulls up the beat sheet again. It's this one—Jon standing, fucking Emily from behind—and then the one he's still confused to learn is a thing, Jon eating Emily out after. "Touching shoulders accidentally while walking is too gay, but you can eat your own semen?" Lovett asks. "Can I just say that straight-man rules are ridiculous?"

Hanna offers him a high-five, and he takes her up on it. "To be fair to Jon," Tommy says, "I don't think anything happening in this room can really be described as 'straight.'"

Lovett gestures at Jon, pushing his cock back into Emily. Tommy gestures, somewhat more evocatively, at Lovett's lap, and at the laptop, and at the way Hanna's very nearly salivating as she watches.

"Okay," Lovett concedes. "Maybe."

"Anyway," Tommy says. "What's missing from this is a blowjob scene."

Ronan snorts. "We tried it. Trust me, if anything comes off as too straight—"

Emily says, broken up a little with gasps as Jon pounds her, "It's the hair. I just look super porny doing it on camera. Not in the good way."

"Yeah," Ronan agrees. "Maybe we'll talk casting options there. Hanna?"

"Uh," Hanna says. Her eyes are fixed on Jon and Emily. "What was the question?"

"I think it was 'would you blow Jon on camera,'" Tommy says, helpfully.

"Oh," Hanna says. "Sure."

"Okay, that's an option, then," Ronan says, and Lovett hears the sound of him typing. "I'm starting to think we may want to introduce some minor plot elements to this one, before we do the fully scripted version. Just, you know, hang a lantern on why Emily isn't blowing him. Hmmm. Oh—maybe we introduce Tommy's dick, the idea is Hanna's jaw needs a break? Something. Lovett and I can work on a plot synopsis and distribute it for comment."

The slap of Jon's hips against Emily's ass is getting louder and faster, and Emily drops to her elbows and reaches down to touch herself, or maybe Jon—this part is all somewhat beyond Lovett's ken—and they're all just staring, finally silent.

Beside Lovett, Tommy reaches for his own dick again and then makes a frustrated sound and drops his hand off. Because they're so close, it doesn't land on the couch where he'd probably meant to go, but on Lovett's thigh. He looks over, startled, and then shrugs and leaves it there.

"Left hand to breast," Ronan says, and it's mechanical, but Lovett can definitely hear the tension in his voice, the arousal. Jon listens, sliding his far hand up Emily's body until he's swirling his thumb around her nipple, just visible.

Emily presses her face into the bed. Lovett thinks one of them is going to comment, tell her to turn towards the camera, but everyone's silent now. Tommy's fingers are digging into Lovett's thigh.

"Oh—" Jon says, and only because he says it does Lovett see the way Emily's body is shaking, thighs tensing, feet curling up. This time, she's silent.

Lovett can hear Ronan's breathing through the laptop speakers, deep and catching, unsteady. He thinks, he's pretty sure, that Ronan's not jerking off, either. That he wants to.

Jon makes a grunting noise when he comes, bursting out of his throat. He tugs Emily in tight against him, shoving into her in tiny final strokes, barely pulling out before he pushes back in. He looks _made_ for this. Lovett wants to see him hold her up against the wall, too. He wonders if Jon could hold her up without a wall. He bets Tommy could.

"Uh, final sequence," Ronan says, voice thready, and Jon pulls out, gently. Lovett can see the come on his cock, shiny splatters, and he can see the hungry way Jon leans in to eat Emily out. The precision of before is gone; this is Ronan's requested vigor, broad tongue stripes and Jon pressing his face so far into her that Lovett doesn't know how he can breathe.

Emily pushes him away, finally, rolling over onto her side, still breathing heavily. "And, scene," she says, voice weak.

"Uh, yeah," Jon agrees. He climbs up behind her on the bed, flopping down. "Wow."

"Wow," Hanna agrees, and so does Ronan.

"So we’ve, ah, gotta run. Places to be, things to do,” Tommy says.

"Until the dress rehearsal on Saturday," Ronan reminds them. He clears his throat. "Lovett, ring me when you get home."

Yeah, like that was even a question. "Sure."

Tommy and Hanna are already halfway to the door, Tommy awkwardly stuffing his cock back into his pants. "We'll see you guys later!" Tommy calls, and Hanna giggles as they flee.

"Subtle," Lovett says, but he's shoving the laptop back onto the desk, grabbing his bag. "Anyway. See you Saturday."

"Uh-huh," Jon says. He sounds like a man who's just had some very surprising revelations. "Saturday."

Lovett's got Ronan on the phone before he's fully out the door. "Talk to me about something non-sexual for five minutes," he tells Ronan. "But after I get home, we are _definitely_ having a chat about Tommy's porn dick."

"I had a feeling that would be the topic of discussion," Ronan says, a grin in his voice. "We'll talk all about casting. I think there are some good positions to fill. If you know what I—"

"Literally, Pundit would know what you mean, Farrow. Topic change. I'm not crashing my car with a hard-on, it would make the news. I might end up on the E block of Hannity."

"There's a boner-killer if there ever was one," Ronan muses. "Fine. Pundit updates."

Lovett gets in his car, turns the engine on, and lets the Bluetooth take over. "She's perfect," he says, and starts driving them home.


End file.
